#sydrowan

Sydney could always tell when illness was coming his way, so he wasn't surprised when his coughing began to rattle his bones worse than usual.

He expected it when his nose stuffed up, and when his throat went dry and raw.

And it came as no surprise to him when Jedidiah stepped in, giving him extra blankets and pillows, spoon-feeding him cough syrup, placing the dehumidifier on his bedside table, and practicing all the other staples of nursing.

“Sydney, you need to rest,” he’d whined, “Sydney, you need this medicine,” “Sydney, please.”

And he gave him everything he needed. All the worldly tools used to heal someone afflicted with his ailments.

And it had helped him. Physically.

But it didn't help the burning ache in his heart.

The remedies he had been given were practical, tactile and real, so of course they wouldn't help something so metaphysical. Still, Sydney hoped Jedidiah would somehow deliver him the cure to this insensible hurt.

And as he waited and waited and hoped and waited, the ache only grew stronger, and Sydney grew weaker.

He wanted to cry.

Jeddie had always been… distant, of course, even in their childhood years, even before… everything. The past year, though, after he was forced to reveal Sydney's revival from the dead, that distance had begun to falter. But the rubble of the walls he’d built up would still cause them to stumble from time to time. And right now was one of those times.

Jedidiah was perfectly fine caring for him, even loving him, but engaging in the intimacy Sydney needed was a line he rarely crossed. Just like in college.

“GHH-!” Sydney’s hand jerked up to his forehead, and he began to massage his temples. He got a headache just thinking about that point in his life. He always did. But this now, combined with the physical and mental toll already being taken on him, sent him over the edge.

…Well, it would've, had his spiralling not been interrupted by the loud groan of the door.

Sydney’s head rolled from his hands to look towards the source of the noise. And there he saw Jedidiah, just standing there. He was looking down upon him mournfully, eyebrows furrowed and biting his lip, and only then did Sydney properly realise how pitiful he must look.

“My love, hey. How are you… holding up?”

“Hfff, I'm fine…ish… Well, as fine-ish as I can be, in my current state. Hehh heh… hmm.”

There was an air of forced lightheartedness in his voice. “Mm,”

And then they existed in silence for a minute. “Ssooo..?”

“AH, yes, here, I brought your vitamins.” Jedidiah rustled in his lab coat pocket and produced two small, tar-colored tablets.

“Ah.” The sick man shifted in the bed, painfully pushing himself up into a sitting position, and took the pills of doom from the other man's palm.

-PLEH-

Sydney practically spat once he’d finished, the sickly taste sticking to his throat. Jedidiah stared for a minute, a furrow in his brow, before turning tail towards the door.

“Wait, I…” Sydney's voice cut through the room. He looked up at his caretaker. He looked so tired, so pitiful, so pleading.

“Jeddie, would you, uh,” he paused, inhaled, exhaled, and continued, “Would you… would you stay here, with me? Even for only 10 minutes. I just…”

A beat. A breath. A sharp inhale.

“Sydney… I-”

“Please? Please, Jeddie.”

“I can't. I… Sydney, you know I love you, but I have to go. Th-there's work I have to get done.”

A pause.

Then, “Of course.”

There was a heaviness in the patient’s voice that he didn't try to hide. Jedidiah left the room.

…But after just a moment, he returned.

“You do know that I love you, don't you?” his tone was almost pleading.

“Do I?”

“Sydney,” a jagged exhaustion filled his voice. He was used to this. That didn't mean it didn't sting.

“‘Sydney’ what, Jedidiah? ‘Sydney, you need to rest’? ‘Sydney, you need these vitamins’?’ ‘Sydney, you need what I decide you need’?” He added a whiny twinge to his voice in an attempted mimicry of the other man.

“Sydney- I- that’s not- fuck. Why do you always make this so difficult,”

A painful silence, not unlike that following the ricochet of a bullet, settled over the two men

Then, “Difficult.” the nurse-turned-patient echoed.

“Sydney, that's not what I meant.”

“Isn't it?”

“Of course n-”

“Because TO ME, it seems like th- -COUGH- that’s exactly what you meant. All I do is burden you. Well, I didn't ASK -HACK- f-for this. I didn't ask to get sick, and I didn't ask for you to pretend to love me and I CERTAINLY didn't ask for you to step in like- like some white Knight and burden yourself dealing with me." The nurse’s voice was thick with venom.

“WELL, I CHOSE to take care of you.” the assistant nurse returned the favour

Beat

The only sound in the room was the laboured breathing of both men.

Beat

“Why do you think I ‘don’t love you'?”

Beat

“Well?”

“BECAUSE,” his voice cut through the air like a knife through butter “YOU ONLY -HACK, HACK COUGH- yh-you only say you ‘love me’ when I’m at my lowest… you only love me… when I can’t f-fight back.”

Jedidiah inhaled sharply, audibly contrasting the desperate, strained breathing clawing its way from Sydney’s lungs. He wanted to say more. He wanted to defend himself, to fight back, to prove Sydney wrong.

But he didn't.

There was a sigh, then some shuffling feet, and the creak of a door closing.

And then the only sounds were Sydney’s thoughts. A sob was choked out of the sick man's throat. Then another, and another. More and more came, until he was left gagging against the tears. His mind looped on one word, spinning over and over again in his mind.

Difficult. Difficult. Difficult. Difficult, difficult, difficult, difficult, difficult, difficult difficult difficult difficult difficult DIFFICULT-

He pressed his hands firm against the sides of his skull and he squeezed. Hard. The pressure - the pain - was usually enough to distract him, just a bit, from the sound of his looping thoughts.

He couldn't place exactly when in the evening his tears became less about the hurt in his heart and more about the hurt in his head, but he could place when even that dissipated. His arms couldn’t hold like that forever, and they were beginning to shake.

So when he was forced to relieve his head, and all his emotions began rushing back to the surface, he decided to change the point of pain.

His arms.

He wrapped himself in a cruel mockery of a hug and he began to squeeze, twist, pull, pinch, anything to hurt himself enough to distract from the thoughts rattling his brain. But it didn’t work. He could still hear Jedidiah's voice, the palpable exhaustion at how difficult Sydney was to deal with, feel it reverberating against his skull.

So, he began to claw. He dug his catlike nails into his arms, feeling them break the soft flesh with ease. He dragged the claws up and down his arms until he was left whimpering.

God, he hated the sound. So fucking pathetic, so, so fucking pathetic. The only way to stop it, though, was to bite something.

He pulled his hand up to his mouth. The left one. The right was still tearing up his arm. plunging his teeth into his skin, he was struck with a vague memory of the sensation - his soft hand being squeezed between his teeth, sickly sweet and easily torn like all the godforsaken buttered bread in the world. He wanted to throw up.

God, he was pathetic. One argument reduced him to a dribbling, snivelling mess. He couldn’t not get his way without unravelling.

No wonder Jeddie didn’t really love him. How could anyone love something so pitiful?

. ⋆.˚₊☆────꩜࿔.°────࿔˚₊⋆.

After what could've been five minutes, or what could've been two hours, his fingers cramped up and he was forced by his own body to stop, honestly for the best. The pain still lingered, though - both the physical and emotional.

His sobs lingered, too.

He wasn't breathing, he was gasping. Dead things shouldn’t breathe, anyways.

His bed was stained with tears and snot and blood. Through his tear-clouded vision, he could see the sky peeking out. It was a gentle, earthy green, and could easily blend with the trees, grass and Yvonne’s current hair. He wondered absently how they were doing with the announcements, and another wave came torrenting from his eyes.

He was purposeless.

Sydney, through his weeping, heard a clatter coming from the direction of the doorway. With far too much effort, he wiped his cheeks, pulled his sleeves further down and rolled himself over, where he was met with the figure of Rowan Chow standing in the doorway. His umbrella - presumably the source of the clatter - was discarded against the wall.

The Magpie Moth counselor’s hair was in locs, but they were down, instead of in the loose bun he typically had. He was wearing some black cargo pants and a cropped red sweatshirt, fraying at the bottom. They had notable give, but Rowan always looked two sizes too small for his clothes, especially as of late.

He looked hesitant.

He clearly noticed the puffy redness rimming Sydney's undereyes, and he could definitely tell it wasn't just from the illness currently plaguing him. There wasn't pity in his eyes, though. Just a silent understanding. He didn’t ask, and he didn’t need to.

“Hi, Rowan, dear, apologies for my sorry state, I'm a bit… incapacitated at the moment, hheh,” he huffed out the faintest imitation of a laugh and continued, “Your anti-augeric is downstairs, its in the cabinet to the ri-”

“Oh, I’m fine. I uh, already grabbed some. No, I'm here because I, uh… well, I knew you were sickk… and I wanted to check in on you— I brought a heating pad…! And soup! - Can you even eat soup?” he smiled with a warm awkwardness. It was endearing, the way he stumbled over himself.

Sydney was practically paralysed with gratitude. He didn’t know what to say. He must’ve taken too long to respond, though, because Rowan took notice of his frozen face, mouth gently agape and eyebrows cocked.

“God, this is stupid, I’m sorry, Jedidiah’s probably got you all taken care of already. I’ll just…”

“Oh, n-no!! Uh- I mean, no, it's… this was… a very kind gesture, Rowan. Thank you.”

A peaceful quiet settled into the room.

“And no, I can't eat the soup,” Rowan’s face gained a layer of guilt upon hearing this, “But I can drink it. My curse doesn’t affect liquid intake, so long as its slurped and not… spoon…ed.”

Sydney laughed softly, and Rowan followed suit, before walking the soup - something red and steaming, with herbs matching the current shade of sky - as well as the heating pad, and of course, himself over to Sydney.

Sydney tenderly took the bowl by its sides and took a deep drink. The warmth rested like a fire in his chest. He repeated the process several times, before the bowl was left with nothing but the herbs.

Rowan lingered for a minute, fidgeting, just long enough to give Sydney cause for inquiry. He inhaled deeply before giving his response.

“Alright, um, would it be okay if I… stayed?? I know you probably need to rest, but-”

“No!” Sydney’s voice rang out, stronger than he'd intended. He caught Rowan’s eyes - partially shocked and partially dejected - and realised what he'd said

“AH- I-! I mean, no, I’m fine on rest for the moment!! You can absolutely stay… pl-please stay…” to emphasise his consent, he scooted himself over and patted the space next to him.

Relief washed over Rowan’s face. He began to walk around the bed and climb himself into the spot next to the other man.

But his eyes caught on something.

Sydney’s arms.

Sydney, as he’d settled himself into comfort, hadn’t realised his sleeves had shifted up. He hadn’t realised his forearms were on display, raw and red and bloodied in all their awful glory.

Sydney paled. His throat dried. His arms ran hot and he couldn't bear to look Rowan in the eyes. He pulled his sleeves down again, but the damage had been done, seen.

Panic etched itself into Rowan’s face. He stammered out a few half-sentences before eventually landing on “I-I’ll be right backk… yeah,”

Rowan half-sprinted out of the room. Sydney could hear his feet shuffling rhythmically down the stairs.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

His mind was numb. A billion fears buzzed in his skull, and he couldn't land on a single one for more than a moment. His heart was in his throat.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

The sound of the footsteps faded and Sydney’s fears got louder. Rowan was revolted. He wanted nothing to do with him. He was leaving him. He was leaving Jedidiah to deal with him.

And then the footsteps grew louder.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

And when Rowan’s face returned to the doorway, his arms cradling way too many bandages, Sydney nearly cried out in relief.

Rowan padded over to his side, sat, and requested he present his arms.

“No, don’t… Don't fret over me, dear. I’m the nurse, I-I should be able to… to bandage myself.”

“Sydney, I know I don't have your qualifications, but I think I can handle applying bandages,” His tone was light, half-laughter edging every word, but a soft seriousness laid behind it. Sydney didn't have the energy to argue, so he gave up his right arm, then his left.

…It felt nice, having his arms held so gently. They rested in Rowan’s lap as he worked them, gently massaging them as he went along. He hummed as he worked, a perfect distraction from the buzzing in his skull. Even when he applied the disinfectant, Sydney could barely focus on the sting, his mind lingering instead on the gentle weight of Rowan’s hands.

The soft silence that settled over the two was interrupted by a shaky breath and an apology.

“I'm sorry for uh… running off like that.” Rowan spoke surprisingly shakily for how sturdy his hands were being.

“Oh, dear, its alright. You-”

“No, no it’s not. I shouldn't have panicked like that. It was… God, I probably scared the shit of you. I should’ve reacted better.”

“Rowan, its not your job to react well to me- to my- to… that. You shouldn't’ve even had to… see that. I’m sorry.”

“Dude, you can't control when stuff like that happens. Trust me, I know. I'm your friend, though, and I want to know when you're hurting. I want to help where I can.”

Sydney wasn't fully convinced that he was blameless, but he was too tired to continue the back-and-forth apology game, so he settled again. And when they were done cleaning and dressing his wounds, Rowan actually settled alongside him, properly this time.

He wrapped his arms around Sydney, providing a gentle, comforting weight on his side. He rested his head on his shoulder and exhaled a heavy sigh, before asking the dreaded question.

“Are you… are you alright?”

A shaky breath escaped Sydney’s lips.

A beat passed

And then, “Yeah. Yeah, I just- I- I wasn’t- I’ve been-” he sighed, “I haven't… done that… in a while. So don’t- don't worry about me.”

“I’m not… worrying, I promise. I just… I care about you, man. A lot.”

The silence settled back in, before promptly being broken again. “We dont have to talk about it,” Rowan’s voice came gently, “But… please, let me know if you start feeling like… like hurting yourself again. You don't deserve that, especially not from yourself.”

“A-and if you're not around? And if you can't handle that?”

“Then tell someone. I'm not the only person who cares about you here, you know. No one wants you hurt.”

Sydney sighed

“Promise?” Rowan repeated

“Alright… I promise,”

Rowan sighed contentedly.

They laid together for a few minutes, the only sounds their gentle breathing. Their bodies fit together perfectly. Sydney gently grasped Rowan’s hands, wrapped across his body, and rubbed his palms. The heat was so comforting.

His hand released Rowan’s, though, as his mind half-drifted off. It was no longer plagued with looping self-flaggelation. No, instead all he could focus on was the warmth of the man beside him.

Rowan’s arm retracted from where it rested on Sydney's side, and he began to reach his hand up the back of Sydney's shirt. He hesitated, though, before asking,

“Is it uh.. Okay? For me to rub your back? I just sort of figured it would help, I mean, I know it helps me when I’m doing… y’know… bad, and I thought it might help your pain as well and, with you feeling so-”

“Rowan,” Sydney, only half awake, tiredly interrupted his rambling. He was hardly breathing from how fast he was speaking.

“Huh?”

“Yes, yes it's okay.” he laughed, and then “Thank you.”

Rowan breathed a small laugh, before he began to palm deep circles into Sydney’s back, rubbing in deep circles. He thumbed the small of his back

Sydney practically melted into the sensation. Rowan was always so comfortingly warm, like the full force of the sun had been condensed into his touch - He could swear he could feel the tightness and tension melting off his back - His hands were strong and lightly calloused, but he used them with such care.

Sydney wasn’t used to this type of care.

It was nice.

In the precious silence, Sydney’s voice creaked out, “So, how was your year?” This was the first time the two were able to properly talk since January, when Rowan had last visited, and Sydney wanted to take full advantage.

“It was good. It was really good,” came the response. Sydney, though his back was turned to the other man, could hear the smile in his voice.

“Hm. and how was Juniper?” Rowan’s hands grew even warmer at the mention of his boyfriend. His hand slowed, and he didn't say anything for a minute, seemingly lost in thought.

“...Rowan?”

“AH- G-good! Also good. Mhmm.”

Sydney breathed a laugh, a proper laugh, at how flustered the man became. He was behaving like a teenager with a puppy crush.

“Sorry for, uh, zoning out there,” Rowan said, his voice coated in laughter of his own

“Oh its quite alright. I mean, I can only imagine what you were reminiscing on.” Sydney snickered as he spoke “The two of you were together for the whoole off-season. And I know what it's like, the whole new boyfriend thing. There's so much to get up to! So much to explore-”

“Alrighttt, cut it out, cut it out.” Despite his protests, Rowan was practically breathless from his own laughter - and at least a few degrees warmer.

And despite the fact he was the one to call for ‘cutting it out’, Rowan continued. “No, but it was good, really. Legsworth was nice, and it turns out I'm surprisingly good at fishing!”

“Mm! Well, you learn something new everyday,” the nurse paused, melting back into Rowan’s hand, which had continued massaging, before continuing the conversation, “What else did you get up to? You know, besides fishing?”

“Oh, just like… normal... new couple things...? I guess? Like, he showed me all around Legsworth, its a small place so we got pretty much through it in one day, but it was really nice. Comfortable. I got to meet his dad! He was uh, an interesting guy, but you know what they say about apples falling from trees,” this earned him a laugh from Sydney. Chasing that sound, he continued, “Oh, and of course, the other new couple stuff. One time, we were super far out on the water, just us, alone, and Juniper-”

Sydney, hearing the mischief coating the other man's voice, cut in “Aaahh! Stop, stop, I don't need to hear about all the, er, intimate details,” he was barely able to speak through his laughter, though.

“But Sydneyy!!” Rowan mock-pouted “I thought you wanted to know about all we got up to! Don't you want to hear all about how my lover ravished me on the open sea with nothing but a-”

“PFF- St- stopp!!” Sydney couldn't even properly protest anymore. He was full-on cackling. It hadn't helped that Rowan’s mouth was right up against his ear.

“You started this!!” Rowan was barely any better with his laughter, but he was at least able to choke out those three words before bring sent into hysterics.

After a few moments, though, Sydney’s laughter was replaced with aggressive coughing tearing up his throat. He practically convulsed with each hack. And it didn't stop with coughing. He began to gag.

Concern situated itself on Rowan’s face, “Wh- whoa hey, dude, sit up, I-”

But before he even had a chance, Sydney threw up. Right off the side of the bed. His eyes opened, and he was immediately met with it, bright red and soft-chunk filled. He gagged again just seeing the mess.

Before he could throw up a second time, he flipped himself over, where he found Rowan staring. His face was a frozen mix of disgust and concern and terror, with a layer of pity coating it all.

And, because he apparently couldn't control any of his bodily functions, Sydney began to cry. The disgust on Rowan's face immediately melted, but the tears were already flowing.

“Ghh- god, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he tried to laugh, but it blended with his sobs.

Rowan looked like he wanted to retract inside himself. Instead, he inhaled a shaky breath, and said “its- its not your fault. Don’t- don't worry.” he paused “I- I'll be right back with some towels.”

He pattered off quickly again. Sydney counted his slow, shivering breaths as he waited.

Inhale, exhale

One.

Inhale, exhale

Two.

Inhale, exhale

Three.

Inhale, exhale

Four.

And after only his fifth breath, Rowan returned. He slowed as he approached Sydney’s side of the bed. Head to the roof, he swallowed, released yet another shaky breath, and continued on.

Sydney had pushed himself upright, though, and was making a tremendous effort to stand

“Ro-Rowan, its okay, dear, you can lay back down. You don't h-have to take care of me.”

“Sydney, I wouldn't be doing this if I didn't want to take care of you. I said it earlier, and I meant it - I care about you. A lot. And, yeah, this sucks. Vomit is,” he shuddered, and his face wrinkled “Eeurh… but if that's what I have to deal with to take care of you, well, I can put up with that.”

Sydney didn't know what to say, but Rowan wasn’t waiting for a response. He approached the spew beside where Sydney was half laying. He looked contemptuous, his face scrunched, eyes half closed. Sweat covered his skin.

But he looked aside to Sydney, and he softened instantly.

He shakily inhaled for probably the five millionth time in ten minutes, and he kneeled and began to wipe the vomit

“We- we were luucky -Ghhh- nnone of it got on the bed,” he half-heartedly laughed, shuddering as he spoke. “You should, uh, ddrink the water I g-got for youu -Eughh-”

Sydney hadn’t even noticed the glass resting now on his bedside table.

“I- I- Mmm. Thank you, Rowan. So, so much.”

He grabbed the glass, his quaking hand dramatically rippling the water as he pulled it to his face. It was cold, but not enough to chill him. Just enough to clear his throat of the burning acidic taste left behind, though.

By the time he'd finished drinking, Rowan had finished his task, too. He scurried off to toss the paper towels in a bin, muttering “ew, ew, eww,” as he went.

When he returned, he carefully shut the door behind him and sighed. He approached the bed again, and produced another glass of water, handing it to Sydney

“Just to, uh, make sure you had enough.”

He had a glass for himself, too, which, after sitting, he promptly downed and sat on the second bedside table. Sydney mirrored the action, except he only took a swig before placing it down.

Rowan leaned his back against the headboard of the bed. Sydney did the same. Rowan looked over to him. Tears must've still been visible on his face, because Rowan jolted up and leaned over to him, scanning his cheeks. He reached his hand up, hesitated, but went ahead and wiped the tears away.

“Thank you,” Sydney whispered

Rowan nodded, “of course,” he lingered, though, his hand still cupping the other man's face. His eyes were on Sydney's lips, and Sydney's eyes were on his.

“C-can I…” Rowan breathed

“Please,”

And he leaned down, piecing their slightly parted mouths together. Rowans's lips were soft. His breath tasted like mint and rain. He was gentle but guiding. He had clear experience and, though Sydney did too, he gladly let himself be led.

This wasn't the first time they’d done this. They'd kissed two or three times before, and they'd both talked to their respective boyfriends about it. This was the first time the kiss was so deep, though. This was the first time Sydney could taste Rowan, feel just how soft his lips were.